


Legal

by FrancisMitherz



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Graffiti, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Small Towns, Sneaking Out, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 21:31:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3503468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrancisMitherz/pseuds/FrancisMitherz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk shivered, pulling his coat tight around himself. The night was cold and dark, the stars and moon partially obscured by clouds.  The streets were empty this time of night, and their footsteps echoed loudly through the hills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legal

Kirk looked at the clock. It read 2:03. Now was as good a time as any, it would seem. He sat up and pulled his feet out from under the covers. He crept to the door and found no sound coming from the rest of the house. He pulled his bag out from under his bed. Once downstairs, he eased through the front door, out onto the street.

Waiting for him was his friend Jo in a black hoodie, carrying a duffel bag. “Took you long enough,” she whispered.

“What’re you talking about?” he hissed. “I’m on time.”

She rolled her eyes. “C’mon.”

They started down the road. Kirk shivered, pulling his coat tight around himself. The night was cold and dark, the stars and moon partially obscured by clouds. The streetlamps were bright enough to let them see where they were going, but little else. They gave everything a sickly yellow tint. The streets were empty this time of night, and their footsteps echoed loudly through the hills.

Portsville was a small town, and safer for it. Children played in the streets and went out on their own, no one went out at night (present company excluded) and the most the police ever had to do was tell a group of rowdy tourists at the pub to keep it down, people were trying to sleep. That’s what made it perfect for Kirk.

They arrived at the park. He felt himself grow excited at what was coming. They went behind the bathroom and put their bags down. Jo pulled out a torch and Kirk several canisters of paint.

“You go first,” she told him, shining the light on the blank bathroom wall.

He picked his first can at random and set to work. He started in the lower left-hand corner, and from there coated half the wall in ever more complicated patterns, making an array of green, orange, black, and red. He wasn’t sure how long he worked, but when he glanced up at the moon, he was surprised to see it was much lower in the sky than he’d expected.

“Tick-tock, Driscoll.”

He grinned at Jo. “All done. Your turn.”

She handed the torch to him and started her own mural. Her style was much more realistic than Kirk’s. Where he would’ve made twisting ropes that turned into something completely unexpected, she made a landscape. Somehow, she managed to make it look like her barn on a hill was melting from his whatever-it-was.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when she sat down next to him.

“What d’you think?” she asked.

He nodded. “Nice one.”

“Thanks.”

He checked his watch. 2:47. “We should probably get going soon.”

“We just have to tag it, though!”

He raised his brow.

“Look, yours’ll be dry in a few. We’ll just tag that.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

She punched him in the shoulder and he winced. “Thanks, bud.”

He scowled. “Don’t call me bud.”

“Sure thing, bud.”

He shoved her.

Suddenly, a siren sounded. A bright light shone from behind them. Kirk turned and shielded his eyes. Was that a police car?

“Evening, kids.”

“Er—Evening,” Jo stuttered.

The lights dimmed. The policeman stepped out of his car.

Kirk didn’t recognize him. That was odd, considering most everyone knew most everyone here. He must have been quite new to Portsville, then.

“Awfully late for a walk, isn’t it?”

_A walk?_ thought Kirk. What was he talking about? “Er, ‘scuse me, sir,” Kirk said, “but is there a problem?”

The man considered him. “Well, from what I can tell you two’ve just vandalized public property.”

“ _Vandalized?_ ” Jo sounded offended. “We haven’t _vandalized_ anything.”

“Really.” Unimpressed. “Then what d’you call that?” He pointed behind them.

“What, this?” Jo asked, looking back at the wall. “This is just graffiti.”

The policeman nodded. “Graffiti’s against the law.”

Kirk blinked. “But, sir, no one’s ever minded a little graffiti before. Besides, it’s not like it’s town…hall…” He trailed off.

The policeman pulled out his walkie-talkie. “This is John Cullman, I’ve got two teenagers here in violation of public property.”

Wait—was he calling this in to the station?

A moment later the voice of Deputy Michael Ellingham, who _knew_ Kirk and Jo, answered. _“Deputy Ellingham here, what’s the nature of your situation?”_

“Got a couple teenagers here that’ve painted the wall of a public restroom in Blakeslee Park.”

There was a moment of silence on the line. _“They’ve…painted a bathroom wall.”_

“Yes, sir.”

_“Well. I’d better call in backup, eh? Make sure they don’t get away?”_

Officer Cullman frowned. “Sir?”

_“Cullman, I hardly think graffiti’s really worth our time. I mean, they haven’t painted a Nazi flag on that wall, have they?”_

“No-o, sir.”

_“And they haven’t damaged anything? No broken windows, no doors blown off their hinges?”_

Cullman looked more and more unhappy by the minute. “No, sir.”

_“Well, then, they’ve done nothing wrong.”_

“But the graffiti, sir, they’ve vandalized public property! Surely—”

_“Oh,_ vandalized _it, have they? Listen to me, Culllman, they’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve no reason to arrest them and no reason to treat ‘em poorly.”_

Jo was stifling her giggles with a hand pressed over her mouth. Kirk looked off to the side and tried desperately to hide his smile from view.

_“As a matter of fact, I think you ought to escort ‘em home. After all, you never know what kind of_ vandals _are lurking in the streets at night.”_

“But sir!” Cullman spluttered.

_“Good night, Cullman,”_ Deputy Ellingham said firmly, and hung up.

“Sir, sir—” Cullman growled. He turned to Kirk and Jo. “Well, you heard him. Go on, it’s home with you two.”

Kirk wasn’t going to test his luck. He shoved all the paint cans back into his bag and gave Cullman one last glance before power-walking away as fast as he could, Jo right beside him. They didn’t talk most of the way back. When they came within sight of his house, he let out a quavering sigh and leaned against a lamppost.

“That was—er—that was—”

“Effing close,” Kirk breathed.

“Did you see him, though? He tried to arrest us for painting!” Now firmly out of danger, Jo was getting angry. “Friggin’ unbelievable!”

If Kirk didn’t stop her now, she was liable to start ranting, and the last thing he wanted was to explain to his parents what he’d been doing out at three o’clock in the morning.

“Jo,” he interrupted, “I get it—really—but—I think—I think I should just go to bed. I’m dead.”

“Uh—yeah.” Her expression morphed into one of concern. “You gonna be all right?”

Kirk nodded. “Just need some sleep. I’ll be okay.”

Jo accompanied him to his house, then bid him farewell. Kirk opened the door and slipped inside. He snuck upstairs, careful to skip the step that creaked, and made his way to his room. He slumped down on his bed, not bothering to change. He laid his arm over his eyes.

“Fuck.” He was shaken. He didn’t even want to think about what had happened tonight. If that policeman had actually escorted them home both he _and_ Jo would be dead meat. He lay there awhile, trying—unsuccessfully—not to think.

When he checked the clock next it read 4:15. Well. Guess he wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked, or have critique or noticed typos, feel free to let me know.


End file.
